


Heartbeats

by Mishteeshim



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, Death, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Non-Canonical Character Death, Open ending!, Other, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Short One Shot, or not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3507764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishteeshim/pseuds/Mishteeshim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>This is the last time I volunteer to go in first</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeats

**Author's Note:**

> no beta, just a super quick story.  
> First time writing this kind of short little sad thing so I welcome comments and feedback ^^ thank you

Heartbeats were almost impossible to mistake once you learned to tell them apart. The subtle sounds they make, the tempo they kept, the way they would hitch with emotions. Each person’s heartbeat was unique like beats patterned out on custom drums. Emerging from the

Emerging from the trees, Scott strained his ears they neared the abandoned apartment complex. It had been scheduled for demolition a year ago but delays kept it standing; a perfect place for Hunters to hide out and cause them all sorts of grief. As soon as the building was in sight Scott could hear his friends inside. Derek’s ran beside him, pulse beating every time his feet hit the ground steady and strong. Flashing lights irrupted from the windows on the second floor followed by the sharp pop of gunfireDscented the air. “I’m going to the top floor." He paused only to wrench the metal door open letting it slam against the concrete wall that crumbled slightly

“I’m going to the top floor." Derek paused only to wrench the metal door open letting it slam against the concrete wall that crumbled slightly on impact. Scott watched as Derek ran past him into the building towards the sounds of snarling wolves and gunshots. “Find Stiles!”

Scott nodded and scented the air, listening before darting off in the opposite direction where the scent he caught was leading him. He found Stiles in a room with a broken door. His feet skidding to a halt to push open the bent door open enough that he could get through. It made a horrible screeching sound as it dragged over the bare tile floor. The macabre struck him immediately. Bloody smears were thrown against the tan walls and broken bits of glass were strewn about underfoot. Claw marks were carved into nearly every surface and bullet holes peppered the walls along side them. It smelled of anger, fear, and pain. The bodies of two Hunters lay unmoving on the ground with their hands outstretched for guns they would never grasp again. 

Scott looked around franticly till he saw what he was looking for. A single figure was sitting up against the back wall looking tired and a little cross. “Stiles!” Scott ran forward, feet crunching over the broken glass as he slid down carefully next to his friend. "Stiles, you okay?"Stiles face was pale, skin damp with sweat that mingled with blood on his temple running a pale watery rivulet of red down the side of his face. He had a few scratches and there were patch’s of wet blood all over his torn clothes.

When Stiles heard Scott he blinked up at the man, squinting through the dust in the air. “Scotty, buddy," he said, cracking a small grin. His voice was rough like he’d been shouting for too long. “You’re late. Relax," he smiled, plucking at a sodden part of his shirt. "S'not all mine.”

Scott let out a light laugh doing a good job of masking the fact that his heart had damn near jumped out his throat while he was running here, worried out of his mind that they were too slow. But Stiles was joking with him and he was alright. “I know, sorry man. We got here as fast as we could. We got ambushed about a mile down the road but Chris and Ethan stayed behind to hold them off.”

Stiles smiled and nodded, head rolling to the side a bit like he couldn’t hold it up. “So, this is the _last_ time I volunteer to go in first," he announced tiredly. "Someone else is going to do it next time, just you wait."

Scott snorted a bit, shaking his head. “Good luck with that dude, you _always_ go first. Come on.” He took his friends arm and started to stand, pulling the other along with him. Stiles heartbeat thundered in his ears suddenly and the acrid scent of pain seeped into the air.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Stiles hissed, causing Scott to let go of his arms. His back thudded against he wall again and he winced, groaning. “Jesus, Scott, don’t just pull an injured guy up like that!”

“Sorry!” Scott gasped, kneeling down again more slowly this time. Concern laced his features as he looked the other over. “Are you okay? Anything broken?” His hands hovered, itching to take away some of the pain.

Stiles shook his head, reaching up with one shaking hand to wipe sweat away from his eyes. “Maybe. I got hit pretty good so I’m not going anywhere fast.” He let out a breath like he was trying to exhale some of his exhaustion. “Go on. Get up stairs with the rest of them. Just...let me rest for a little bit.”

Scott frowned, not liking the way Stile heartbeat calmed or the way his words became uneven as his eyes drooped. “I have to get you out of here, Stiles," his tone was more serious this time. "You look like you have a concussion and you are _covered_ in blood.”

Stiles just shook his head, waving his hand limply. “Dude, it’s fine. I wont fall asleep.” Steady heartbeat.

Scott only frowned harder. “I can't just-,”

Stiles barreled on, ignoring his brother’s earnest protests by snorting lightly. “I took out a few before you got here as you can see by their lifeless corpses behind you but Liam and Isaac are upstairs taking care of there rest. Plus I'm pretty sure I saw Derek zip past you like a bat out of hell and he's happily ripping throats out as we speak. Get your Alpha ass up there and join in the party.”

“No, I have to get you out of here, man,” Scott insisted, reaching for Stiles again. “You need to get to the hospital.”

Stiles actually slapped his hand this time. Hard. “Dude, I’m good,” he asserted more strongly this time, brows furrowed over dark amber eyes. “I’m just tired. You have no idea how much ass I had to kick before you guys got here. Let me rest for a minute and go help the others. The sooner everyone’s dead the sooner we can get my dying ass to your mom.”

Scott was going to argue again, tell Stiles he was white as a sheet, that his heartbeat was unsteady, that he could smell his blood in the air, that he might _actually being dying_ , but then he heard Derek’s roar from above and bits of plaster and splintered wood fell from the ceiling. The call trembled down his spine, urging his legs to answer the call of the Pack.

“Scott, go help them,” Stiles said, face a few shades paler as he stared up at the ceiling. “A few minutes isn’t going to make a difference to me.”

“Stiles-,”

Stiles suddenly shoved his shoulder hard, voice rough with anger as a wolf howled above them. “Go, man!”

Scott stood and turned to look at Stiles, pointing at him for good measure. "Do _not_ move."

Stiles rolled his eyes and for a moment Scott remembered all his friends past eye rolls at his stupidity. "Not like I can anyway dude!"

 

***

 

Even through the dust and dirt kicked up in the air the wolves could keep track of the bodies by listening for heartbeats. There were seven Hunters left and five of them including their human Pack mate downstairs. Twelve total alive in the building. Scott took the stairs three at a time and got to the top in time to hear Isaac roar. Something that sounded like a large wooden beam broke clattering against the floor as more dust flew into the air. Eleven heartbeats total.

“Isaac, you alive?” Scott called, diving into the fray and listening for the Betas heartbeat.

Someone shouted and Isaac called out, “Liam, grab his gun!” three shots fired off and claws tore through flesh. Ten heartbeats. "One down!"

Something wet splattered on the ground, followed by a thud. Eight heartbeats.

“Scott, I thought I told you to get Stiles out of here!”

More shouting and wood splintered.

“He’s still downstairs!” Scott called, narrowly missing a bullet. “Isaac behind you!” The blonde Werewolf swiped his hand out behind him and caught a Hunter across the stomach before grabbing him and slamming him into the floor face first.

Seven heartbeats.

Derek sleeve was torn, a gash running down the length of his arm but the other two looked worse off. They’d been shot and the wounds weren’t healing. The scent of wolfsbane hung in the air.  

“Are you crazy?!” Derek growled, punching a man so hard he flew back five feet. “This place could come down any second!” To prove his point more plaster fell from the ceiling in larger chunks barely missing where they stood and sending up a cloud of white debris when it hit. They could all hear the rafters groan in protest, riddled with bullet holes that weakened their integrity.

“Let’s just take care of these guys and then we can get him!” Liam called out, kicking his opponent hard in the stomach before launching at him, fangs and claws bared.

Within a matter of minutes the seven Hunters lay dead on the ground and Scott leaned forward panting, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “We get’m all?” he breathed, wheezing slightly. Derek grumbled and shook some gore from his hands while Liam sat himself down on the floor with a sigh.

“I think so,” Isaac groaned, pulling a rather nasty looking piece of wood out of his thigh and tossing to the side.

Scott let out a relieved breath, head hanging. “Thank god. That sucked.” He closed his eyes and listened, hearing the heartbeats in the building like a reassuring lullaby. Isaac’s, Liam’s, Derek’s, and his own.

Four heartbeats.

Air slammed into his lungs and Scott’s breath caught in his throat like a fist. His head shot up in time to see Derek running towards the stairs as though the hounds of hell were on his heels.

They all took the stairs four at a time.

 

***

 

“Stiles!” Derek called out, over and over. He was on his knees, drawing the boy closer by his shoulders. He slapped his face lightly, trying to get him to wake up. Soundlessly, Stiles slumped forward. Liam blanched and took a step back, knocking into Isaac whose eyes were wide and bright in the darkness. The wall behind Stiles back where Scott had left him was soaked in blood. His shirt was torn to rags, his back to ribbons, more open wound than solid flesh at this point.

Scott tasted bile rising in his throat as he dropped to his knees next to his brother. “Stiles?” his voice was quiet and scared even to his own ears.

Derek’s eyes flashed blue at him. “Why didn’t you get him out of here!?” he shouted, the hands holding Stiles trembling. He didn’t bother to listen to Scott's response and went back to trying to get Stiles to move. To open his eyes at least.

“Stiles! Wake up!” Derek ordered, half bark, half growl, all panic. He shifted so that the boy was leaning against his chest, hand pressed to the wound that was his back. Thread thin lines of black crept up his arm and Derek’s face fell. “No, no, no!”

Scott grabbed his friends wrist and the thin lines trailed up his arm as well. Barely any pain bled out and he felt something inside him break. He remembered long brunette hair, dark eyes fill with tears looking up at him and the smell of rain.

_It doesn't hurt._

The small discomfort he felt trailing up his arm was the feeling of giving up.

Scott barely noticed the cold wrist fall from his limp fingers. He watched in a stunned daze as Derek ripped off his jacket and threw it over the broken glass on the floor, laying his best friend down. Derek pressed his ear to Stiles chest, eyes wide. Scott couldn’t hear any heartbeat but his own roaring in his ears. 

“He’s…” Derek breathed like it was punched out of him, “It’s there. He’s still got a pulse!” his eyes flashed up to Scott. “Snap out of it! Call an ambulance!" Scott flinched and sucked in a quick breath, trying to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth. He staggered to his feet, unable to help taking a step back, away from the scene before him. Derek continued to issue orders. "Liam, Isaac, find some blankets, curtains, anything to help stop the bleeding!” The other two wolves just stood there stunned an unmoving. Derek roared to snap them out of it and they fled the room while Scott pulled out his phone.

Scott answered the 911 dispatch robotically, listening more to the nothings Derek was whispering to his friend who had yet to open his eyes.

“Stiles, help's coming, okay. Just hang on. Keep breathing. Don’t you _dare_ die.”

Scott felt numb and the woman on the other end of the line asked him if he was still there and if everything was okay.

"Stiles, open your fucking eyes!" It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay.

Scott saw the barest movement of Stiles chest but his skin was too pale, like all the blood was gone from his body. Judging by the state of the wall, it was.

“Scott. Scott!” Scott snapped out of his daze, blurted out the address to the woman on the phone and then hung up, dropping down by Derek. His hands hovered over Stiles body, afraid to touch. A thin trail of blood pushed past Stiles lips and dripped down his jaw. His whisky colored eyes were glassed over but open, staring up at the both of them. Scott could hear his heartbeat slow and quiet as it pushed more and more blood from his body.

Scott’s breath hitched, feeling a burn in the back of his eyes. “Stiles? Buddy, you okay?”

Stiles lips twitched at the corners. “S-Scotty-,” the words cut off wetly.

“Shut up, don’t make him talk,” Derek snapped, hands hovering much the same way Scotts were.

 

***

_I won't fall asleep_

 ***

 

“W-we’ve got an ambulance coming,” Scott rambled. “They’ll be here any minute so just stay awake, okay buddy? You have to stay awake okay.”

 

*** 

_Let me rest for a minute and go help the others_

_***_

Stiles tried to move but Derek held him down, eyes flashing. “Don’t _move_ idiot!”

“Try and stay still,” Scott whispered weakly, looking up and down his brothers body seeing his limbs tremble as they went into shock. "My mom and your dad are going to be here soon."

Derek’s growl rumbled through his chest, eyes seemingly a permanent shade of electric blue. “Where are Isaac and Liam with those damn blankets!”

 

***

_A few minutes isn’t going to make a difference to me._

_***_

 

“Sc-Scott,” Stiles whispered, swallowing back blood after a few tries.

“Stiles, shut _up!”_ Derek choked weakly, voice finally breaking as his face crumpled. “Isaac!” He shouted over his shoulder. “Liam!”

“S’okay, Derek…”

“No, it’s not! God, please stop talking.” Derek pulled away only enough so that he could turn his head and roar for the two other Betas. 

Scott heard them running; heard their frantic heartbeats pounding towards them.

Stiles just smiled weakly and a broken sound left Derek before he could stop it. The older man reached up a bloody hand, fingertips brushing over Stiles cheek, smearing red across his pale skin. "Please Stiles," he whispered, tears making the blue in his eyes shine even more. "I can't do this again."

 

_***_

_This is the last time I volunteer to go in first_

_***_

 

“I lied,” Stiles said, voice breaking over the words, red staining his teeth as he smiled. The amber in his eyes slowly started to dull. “ _This..._ is going to be the last time... I go first.”

 

 

 

Stiles would always go first.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay...so I never want to kill characters I but my friend hates sad fics and I love them and I just wanted to spite her and this is what happened. I wanted to do a really quick short story that I could write in like, ten minutes. I feel so bad about this. 
> 
> The idea behind this is that Hunters were hiding out and doing evil nasty things. The Pack got wind of it and wanted to check it out. Stiles volunteered to go along and deal with any anti-Werewolf jazz, and they made a plan. Things did not go according to plan.


End file.
